One More Time_A Second Chance Romance

by Rye Hart

  “Yeah, sorry to hear all that. I hope you feel better soon,” I said. “Anyway, listen, is Chris on tonight?”

  “Chris Abbott?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh, no, he's not on tonight,” she said. “I'm sorry, hon. I can page him if you'd like.”

  “No, that's okay,” I said. “Don't worry about it. I'll catch up with him later. Thanks, Tracy. I'll talk to you later.”

  “Okay, hon.”

  I disconnected the call and growled in frustration. Where in the hell was Hannah? As I stood there, a wiggling worm of doubt and worry slithered its way into my brain. There was a small part of me – the jealous, insecure part of me – that worried she was with Chris. As in with him. Fucking him.

  I shook my head. No, Hannah wasn't like that. She was with me now and I know she wouldn't be with me, wouldn't have made that sort of commitment, if she were fucking somebody else. She wasn't that kind of a girl.

  Still, I would have been lying if I said I wasn't a little worried about it.

  I jumped into my truck and fired it up. Pulling quickly out of the parking spot, I roared down the road, heading for Chris' place. Yora wasn't a big town and it didn't take me very long to get from one side of it to the other. I drove through the winding streets of the tract homes, shaking my head at the cookie cutter nature of the houses. They all looked alike and they all lacked any sort of personality or creativity. Glad I wasn't living there, to be honest.

  Hannah had the home with the white picket fence in her head, and that was fine. I just didn't want it to be in a housing tract like this, and I wanted our home to have some soul to it.

  I turned into a cul-de-sac and drove slowly down, looking at the house up ahead and to the left of me. Chris' house. The knots in my stomach only tightened though when I saw that his car was gone and all of the lights in his house were off.

  He wasn't home. So, where in the fuck was he? Where in the fuck was Hannah?

  I was half out of my mind with worry and was quickly running out of ideas. I stopped the truck in front of Chris' place and stared at the house, trying to find some idea, some inspiration. Trying to find anything at all that would lead me to Hannah.

  Then it struck me. As loathe to do it as I was, I pulled the card out of my pocket, along with my phone. Looking at the number Titus had given me, I hesitated for a brief moment, not sure if I wanted to deal with him. Climbing into bed with the Widows wasn't exactly something on my bucket list.

  But, I had little choice, so I punched in the number.

  “Yeah,” he said by way of greeting after picking it up on the second ring.

  “Titus,” I said. “Eli.”

  “Good to hear from you, Eli,” he said. “I was wondering – ”

  “This isn't a social call, Titus.”

  There was a brief pause on the line before he spoke. “Well then what is this about?”

  “I can't find Hannah,” I said. “And I can't find Roy. I'm worried something happened to her.”

  “Huh,” he said. “I can see why that'd be a problem. About the girl, that is.”

  “Yeah, that's a big problem.”

  “What do you want me to do about it?” Titus asked.

  I sighed. This was where things were going to get dicey. The last thing I wanted to have to do was ask him for a favor. But, I had no choice.

  “I need some backup,” I said. “I have to get to Roy's place and see what's what.”

  “Backup,” he said.

  I nodded. “Yeah,” I said. “I really need you to do me this solid.”

  There was another long pause on the line. I checked my watch and felt the pressure inside of me continuing to build. Felt my blood pressure continue to climb.

  “Okay,” he says. “I'll help you get your girl back. But, you're gonna owe me, Eli. Big time.”

  “Yeah,” I let out a long breath. “I figured you weren't gonna do this out of the goodness of your heart.”

  He laughed. “Get your ass over to Roy's place. Pronto.”

  “On my way.”

  I disconnected the call and dropped the phone in my pocket Climbing into my truck, I fired up the engine and took off. Fifteen minutes later I pulled to a spot along the curb a couple doors down from Roy's place. There were a couple of lights on and I thought I saw shadows moving behind the curtains in one window. I was pretty sure he was there. Whether or not Hannah was with him, was an entirely different question.

  Getting out of my truck, I leaned against the door and waited for what seemed like forever.

  Finally, I heard the growl of a motorcycle and a couple of minutes later, Titus was pulling to a stop behind my truck. He took off his helmet and hung it on the handlebars of his bike before sauntering over to me.

  “I was surprised you called me,” Titus said. “I guess I should feel honored.”

  “I wouldn't,” I replied. “I don't know anybody else with a gun.”

  He smirked at me. “Are we expecting a little gunplay in there?” he asked. “Because, I gotta be honest here. The thought of putting down the head of my rival club? It sounds entirely tempting.”

  “I'm not here to kill him,” I said. “As much as I'd like to sometimes.”

  “Then why are we here?”

  “If Hannah's not in there with him, then he might have an idea of where she is.”

  “So, you bring me here to use as muscle,” he says. “To intimidate him.”

  I shrugged. “Yeah, basically.”

  Titus seems to think on it a minute and then nods. “Yeah, okay. I can live with that,” he says. “I can sell that as me making Roy understand that he's my bitch.”

  “Do whatever you need to do,” I said. “I just want to find out where Hannah is.”

  “Well then,” he said. “After you.”

  We walked down the street and then turn, heading up the walk to Roy's front door. I rang the bell and we waited. A moment later, I heard the shuffling footsteps of him approaching. Titus nudged me to move over and he draws a chrome .45 caliber pistol.

  When the door opened, and we saw Roy standing there, Titus gave him a grin and raised the pistol, pushing it against my step-father's forehead. Roy's eyes widened in surprise for a moment, but then he laughed and nodded.

  Pressing the gun against his head harder, Titus forces Roy back into the house. I followed them in and closed the door behind me. We walked Roy down to the living room, forcing him to his recliner. He leaned back in his chair, a big, shit eating grin on his face.

  “I take it you're here for Hannah?” Roy asked brightly.

  Titus stepped aside and looked over at me, though I notice that he kept his gun at the ready.

  “He's all yours,” Titus said.

  I stepped in front of him, looked into his smug face, and was suddenly thankful I didn't have a gun on me.

  “Where is she?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “She's – indisposed.”

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I snap.

  “It means she's indisposed.”

  “Stop fucking around, Roy,” I growled. “Where is Hannah?”

  “All you need to know is that she's safe,” he said. “And away from you – which makes her even more safe. I'm the only one who knows where she is, so if you do anything to me, poor little Hannah is going to die all alone.”

  “I can't believe you'd do that to your own daughter,” I growled.

  He shrugged. “It's the price of doing business,” he said. “Besides, it's not like she actually liked me or anything.”

  “Tell me where she is,” I said.

  Roy screwed up his face and tried to look like he was thinking hard. “Oh, golly now, where did I put her?”

  Titus stepped forward and pointed the gun at Roy's face. “Where the fuck is she, Ross?”

  “Like I'd tell you,” Roy sneered.

  Titus turned to me. “We're not going to get shit out of him,” he said. “Might as well just kill him.”

  I shrugg
ed and looked at Roy again. “Last chance,” I said. “Tell me where Hannah is or I'll let Titus here shoot you.”

  “Tell you what,” Roy said. “You and Titus here can both fuck off right out of here.”

  The sound of the gun going off was like a cannon. From the corner of my eye, I saw the burst of flame shoot out of the end of the gun and then watched Roy's body jerk as the bullet punched a hole through his stomach. He looked up at me, eyes wide, his face blanching.

  I turned to Titus, my eyes as wide as Roy's. “What the fuck did you do?”

  “I told you I was going to shoot him,” he said. “You told me to shoot him.”

  “I didn't fucking think you'd do it!”

  Titus shrugged, an amused grin on his face. “Oops?” he said. “Sorry?”

  “Jesus Christ,” I hissed. “Get the fuck out. Get the fuck out of here right now.”

  He still looked amused as he sauntered out of the house. I turned and looked to Roy. His hands were clamped over his gut, the blood spilling out from between his fingers. His eyes were wide, practically bulging out of his head, and his breathing was labored and ragged. Roy was rapidly losing color in his face and was bleeding out quickly.

  “Roy,” I said. “You're going to die. Don't take Hannah with you. Tell me where she is.”

  He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, a thick rivulet of blood rolled down his chin. His eyes were wide and filled with fear, knowing death was upon him.

  “Roy, tell me where she is,” I said, my voice urgent.

  His eyes seemed to focus as he looked at me, and I saw comprehension dawning upon his face. His breathing was starting to slow, and his eyes started to lose the light inside of them. Looking straight at me, understanding completely that he was about to die, Roy opened his mouth and finally spoke.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Hannah

  “I think I'm going to be sick,” I muttered, my stomach roiling.

  I opened my eyes, but the darkness that enveloped me was oppressive, smothering. I couldn't see a thing, but I could tell I was tied up. I could feel the bonds on my body, holding me tight. I was lying flat on my back and felt that both my arms and legs were tied tight.

  It took me a second, but I finally realized that the room I was in wasn't actually pitch black. No, there was something over my eyes. I'd been bound and blindfolded.

  Someone pushed me over on my side just as a fount of bile rushed into my throat. I heaved once and then threw up everything that had been in my stomach. It felt like everything in my stomach for the last ten years came up. The taste that flooded my mouth was awful and my head started to spin. I had to fight back another wave of nausea and managed to choke it back down. But, just barely.

  As I lay there, vague fragments of memory floated through my mind. The images were hazy, and I had no idea where I was or how I'd gotten there. I strained my mind, tried to remember, but the memories proved elusive. It was like trying to grab puffs of smoke.

  A deep voice to my right said, “Shit. Think she's got a concussion?”

  “Who the fuck cares?” another voice said.

  “Ross is going to care, that's who,” the first voice said. “You hurt his little girl, he's going to hurt you. I guarantee it.”

  “Dad? You know my dad?” I cried out.

  I pulled at the restraints that held my hands together. They were too tight and wouldn't budge. There was no way I was going to wriggle free of the ties that held me fast. I was not getting out of them without help.

  “Please,” I said, “let me just talk to my dad. I don't know what's going on. Please, let me talk to him?”

  “Shut that pretty mouth of yours before I make it where you can't speak,” a voice growled in my ear.

  His breath was hot against my skin and it made me flinch. He was close to me. Oh, so close. I smelled the whiskey on his breath and it made my stomach roil and churn once more. I tasted the bile in my throat and feared I was about to throw up again, but it thankfully passed.

  “I didn't hit her over the head, I swear.”

  That voice was familiar, but I couldn't place it at first. I shook my head, trying to clear out the cobwebs, but everything – all of my memories and ability to recognize the familiar – seemed just out of reach for me. The man had spoken low, further hampering my efforts to identify him. It was almost as if he didn't want me to hear his voice too clearly. I tried to listen to the rest of what he was saying, but it was too soft. My head ringing too hard. I couldn't make sense of anything in that moment.

  Breathe, Hannah. Breath. I was a nurse. I was used to high-stress situations. This was a walk in the park compared to the ER on a Friday night.

  Okay, maybe they weren't exactly alike. And maybe I wasn't entirely used to situations where you were literally being held hostage. But some of the principles remained the same. I just needed to remain calm. I needed to focus, and I needed to clear my head. I couldn't let fear or panic overwhelm me. Logic. Detachment. Focus. Those were my friends right now. Staying calm was the key to getting out of this – whatever it was – alive.

  What was the last thing you remember? I asked myself.

  I thought back – Eli. Eli was the last thing I remembered. Yes, Eli and I had made love earlier that morning. That was good. I could still remember back as far as the beginning of the day. That was a start.

  After making love, I'd left his apartment. Went home. I showered. Got it. That was all clear to me, as was the next part. I'd met Chris at the diner and we'd had something to eat. It was then that things started to get a little bit hazy in my mind. I remembered that our conversation started to get delve into my father and his club. I remembered that I'd shared my fears about the club running heroin into town. It was after I'd told Chris what I'd learned that things started to get a little blurry. That my memories started to grow a little hazy.

  Oh God. Someone had been listening in to us. They knew I knew about my dad's club running heroin through town.

  “Let me speak to my dad,” I said, keeping my voice from rising somehow.

  No response. Maybe I was alone, I thought? I tugged and struggled against the restraints holding me. Still no luck. I kept fighting though, pulling at my hands, trying to weaken or loosen the ties. But, whoever had tied my hands up had done a damn good job. I wasn't getting free easily.

  “Anyone, please?” I cried out.

  Now the trembling started. As did the thundering of my heart. I tried to fight it. Tried to stave it off. But, I was so terrified, I wasn't going to be able to keep myself under control. My calm slipped away from me, and I succumbed to the panic.

  “Please,” I shouted. “Please, God, don't hurt me –”

  Hands gripped my shoulders and shoved me back down onto my back. My head hit the floor, cracking slightly and I literally saw stars. My head spinning, I lay there groaning.

  “Fuck, Cal, if she didn't have a concussion before, she sure as shit has one now,” a voice said.

  “Cal? Cal Reynolds?”

  The name rang a bell and I seized on it. I concentrated on the name as it was helping me stave off the darkness that was creeping in at the edges of my vision, threatening to pull me under. I struggled but got myself back into a sitting position.

  Cal Reynolds was one of my dad's friends. The fact that it was one of my dad's friends, gave me hope. If these were my dad's people, I stood a chance at getting out of there alive. My dad wouldn't hurt me. He was capable of a lot of things, as I was coming to understand – monstrous things – but I didn't think he'd actually ever hurt his own flesh and blood.

  “You used to come over to our place when I was little,” I said, still trying to appeal to the man. “I played with your daughter, Zoey –”

  Crack. The sound hit my ears a moment before I felt a thing. But then, a hand collided with my cheek and I felt my head rock to the side. A moment after that, I felt the burning sting of the slap in my cheek. I screamed as the man ripped the blindfold down, and I stared
into black, beady eyes. Familiar eyes, yes, but not friendly. Not in the slightest bit.

  “Idiot, you shouldn't let her see you!”

  “She already knows us, fucktard,” Cal growled. “It's too late anyway.”

  “Ross said we're only holding her until –”

  “Fuck, Ross,” Cal said. “She knows too much. We gotta get rid of her now.”

  “Cal, please – it's Hannah. You know me,” I stammered. “Please, don't do this.”

  I looked around the group and saw all familiar faces. Some of them were looking at me like I was the enemy. Others looked ashamed and refused to meet my eyes. I was terrified, my stomach doing somersaults within me. I could tell by the way some of them were looking at me – or pointedly not looking at me – that nothing good was going to come of this.

  “Paul – I played with your son, remember?” I stammered quickly. “We used to go fishing together before he went to live with his mom. And Stan, your wife taught Sunday School –”

  The words died in my throat when my gaze fell on, yet another familiar face and I gasped. My head was spinning harder and I felt like I was in a waking nightmare.

  “Chris, what are you –”

  I didn't need to finish my question though. Things started becoming very clear in my mind and the puzzle pieces were falling into place. Unfortunately, I didn't like the picture they were forming. I swallowed, hard, as I remembered the last part of my evening. Chris had walked me to my car, but as I was getting in, the world suddenly went black. I remembered nothing more. Nothing until I'd woken up here, surrounded by my father's crew – and Chris.

  Quite obviously, Chris wasn't the clean cut, All American cop he pretended to be. He was dirty and associated with my father's club – which made him a very bad, scary man.

  “Chris, how could you?” I asked, tears filling my eyes. “I trusted you. Of all the people here, I trusted you. I liked you.”

  “I'm sorry, Hannah,” he said.